


Times Gone By

by liketolaugh



Series: Sharing Problems [2]
Category: D.Gray-man, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Allen always tries to help, Angst, Gen, Ishvalan Camp, Mana was Ishvalan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 18:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4490502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liketolaugh/pseuds/liketolaugh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Allen helps out Ishvalans at a rebelling settlement, years after the Ishvalan War, he gets caught out and brought in by a somewhat reluctant team, and Roy remembers that the past just doesn't ever leave you alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Times Gone By

Screams tore through the semi-permanent encampment. Screams and yells and bellowed profanities.

"Damned Amestrians!"

"A curse on all of you!"

"You will receive your due when you at last stand before Ishbala!"

The sound of gunfire sent most of them scattering. A few fell to the ground, screaming. Others snarled and roared and lashed out at the uniformed soldiers.

Allen tucked his head in and darted into the conflict, grabbing the arm of a wide-eyed man who was staring in shock at the fighting around him, frozen.

The man instantly jerked his head down to look at him, eyes widening at Allen's silver irises. Still, the boy's white hair was enough to make him assume at least Ishbalan descent, so when Allen said, voice urgent, "Please come with me," he obeyed.

While the Ishvalan Massacre had ended years ago, the grudge Ishvalans held against Amestrians still stood stronger than ever. This primarily manifested in the form of periodic riots from the various clusters of Ishvalan settlements, and because of this, most of them were being watched in some form or another.

Allen had been in the Ishvalan encampment for less than a day when this riot had started. He wasn't quite sure what had caused it – wasn't sure anyone really knew – but it had turned very violent, very fast.

Allen spotted a small group of children huddled behind a cluster of crates. One of them, the oldest, maybe eight years old, was peering out with narrow, angry eyes.

Allen darted through the chaos, ducking under a startled blow from an officer, and skidded to a halt to kneel in front of them.

"You need to get out of here," he urged, eyes wide and worried. "Everyone's getting out the secondary exit, the first one's blocked." He gave them a small, confident smile, tipping his head slightly. "Just come with me, okay?"

The eight-year-old took a step forward, in front of the other two, physically standing between Allen and them. "Why should we trust you?" he demanded. "You're  _Amestrian!"_

Allen smiled sadly. "You're right. You have no reason to trust me," he admitted. "But it's dangerous here, and more of the military might be coming soon. The camp's being overrun. It's not safe."

The eight year old gritted his teeth, but another one of them, maybe four years old, pleaded, "Please, Isaiah? I don't like it here. It's scary."

Isaiah wavered, and Allen watched patiently as the four-year-old girl stared up at the boy with pleading, ruby red eyes. Finally, he crossed his arms and huffed. "Fine." He pointed at Allen accusingly. "This better not be a trap, Amestrian!"

Allen smiled at him reassuringly, reached out to pick up the youngest of them (a three-year-old who squealed in mild protest), and started to lead them out of the worst of the fighting.

"Who are you, anyway?" Isaiah asked suspiciously, not taking his red eyes off Allen. "Why are you helping us?"

"My name is Allen Walker," Allen explained with a smile, carefully shifting the child in his arms. With Allen thirteen years old and distinctly small for his age, the boy wasn't quite as easy to carry as Allen had thought he would be, though he wasn't heavy, either. "I was actually raised in Ishval, even though I'm Amestrian."

"Huh." Isaiah stopped looking quite so mistrustful, but didn't look completely satisfied, either. "Well, I'm Isaiah. This is my little sister Miri, and my little brother Jacob."

Miri smiled up at Allen shyly, eyes shining, and Allen smiled back.

"Isaiah makes sure we're okay," Jacob offered shyly.

"Does he?" Allen asked, smile slightly forced. What did that mean for their parents? "That's very nice of him."

"Uh-huh!" Jacob agreed enthusiastically, oblivious.

They walked. Over here, they were just barely out of the thick of things, and Allen led them onto a path that would skirt around the chaos to the exit.

"Hey! You!"

Allen started, tipping his head back to look over his shoulder to where the call had come from.

"Stop right there!" the man snarled, brandishing his gun. "Or I'll shoot you like the animals you are, Ishvalan scum!"

Allen's eyes widened briefly, but then narrowed in focus, and he shifted Jacob again and grabbed Miri by the hand. "Run!"

Isaiah didn't need to be told twice, taking off after Allen. Allen lagged for just a second, letting the boy overtake him, and the boy called back, "This way!" and turned sharply onto another street.

Allen followed, trusting him, muttering hasty encouragement to the frightened children with him, which gradually got louder as he tried to cover the hateful shouts of the soldier behind them.

Isaiah was a few steps ahead, taking one turn after another in a fruitless attempt to lose the soldiers.

Eventually, though, he took another turn and froze. Allen turned after him and skidded to a halt, barely keeping his balance as Jacob squeaked and flung his arms around Allen's neck, red eyes wide and scared.

"Allen?" Miri asked in a small voice, looking up at him, crimson eyes glinting worriedly.

Even Isaiah whirled around, his ruby finding Allen's silver in his panic.

Allen remained frozen, staring wide-eyed at the wall towering in their way, just long enough for the soldier to yell, "Let's see you scurry away now,  _Ishvalan!"_

The yell snapped Allen out of it and he started moving.

He lowered Jacob back to the ground and looked at them, silver eyes gone to steel. "Isaiah, take Jacob and Miri behind those crates and hide there until I say it's safe. OK?" He smiled.

Isaiah nodded shakily, eyes uncertain. Allen smiled at him, and Isaiah hurriedly took the two other children and ducked down behind the crates, peeking out at Allen with a hint of worry.

Allen, meanwhile, turned to face the soldier, expression caught between sadness, pity, and anger. This man had been all but brainwashed into believing that Ishvalans were little more than beasts, reliant on their god and scarcely capable of serious thought.

But Allen would never be able to forget the uniform that bathed his world in blood.

The man raised his gun, fire in his eyes.

Allen tensed.

"Dammit, Corporal, stand down!"

A sandy-haired man came flying out from around the corner, expression furious, a cigarette practically crushed in one fist.

The soldier started hard and his hand clenched and the gun fired and  _pain._

Allen let out a small gasp and jerked back, one hand flying up to where the bullet had buried itself in his upper arm. The sandy-haired soldier yelled and lunged for the first soldier, one hand grabbing his shoulder and the other shoving the barrel of the gun to face the ground.

Isaiah gasped, Miri shrieked, and Jacob stared at the soldiers fearfully.

"Stand  _down,_ Corporal!" the new man snarled. "You don't. Shoot. Children!"

The soldier glared at him. "I'm authorized to shoot if I feel threatened," he insisted, then added, like an afterthought, "Sir."

The man snorted in disgust and pushed the soldier away. "Go report to your commanding officer. Why don't you ask  _him_ what  _he_ thinks of you shooting children? I'll take care of  _this_ mess."

The soldier glared at the man, but, eventually, saluted stiffly. "Yes, sir."

The man glowered after the soldier for a long moment as he marched away, annoyance radiating off of every inch of his body, and then let out a long sigh, turning back to the kids. "It's safe to come out now. I don't bite."

Allen, wincing visibly, looked up at him and let out a little half-smile. The man frowned back.

"You alright, kid?"

"I'm fine," Allen promised, hand clamped over his arm, voice slightly strained. Then, not to the man, "Don't worry. He seems nice. I think it's safe to come out."

"He's a soldier," Miri pointed out nervously.

Allen looked over his shoulder to smile reassuringly at her, while the man tried and failed not to wince. "Don't worry. Soldiers are people, too. Not all soldiers are evil."

"OK," Miri said softly, after a moment. Hesitantly, she came out of hiding, ignoring Isaiah's hissed protests. She stopped a few feet away from the man, staring up at him with wide ruby eyes.

Isaiah let out an angry snarl and grabbed Jacob's hand, lunging out of hiding after her.  _"Miri!"_

He came to a halt just a step in front of her and glared at the man, just daring him to try something. The man raised his hands defensively.

"Hey, I'm not going to hurt you! Geez, you Ishvalans are so suspicious."

Even Allen's eyes flashed at that, though it faded quickly.

"I'm Lieutenant Jean Havoc," the man continued. "You three," he nodded to Isaiah, Jacob, and Miri, "are free to go." He looked apologetic as he continued, "But I'm afraid that you, kid, are gonna have to come with me."

Allen nodded, silver eyes resigned and a little disappointed. "I thought so. For resisting and threatening an officer… right?"

Havoc nodded.

"No!"

Both of them looked over to see Isaiah take an angry step forward, fists clenched at his sides and eyes like glowing embers.

"You can't have him!"

"It's okay, Isaiah," Allen said, smiling at him. "I'll be fine. Take care of Miri and Jacob, okay? Make sure they get to the others."

"Will you be OK?" Jacob wanted to know, worried.

"I'll be fine," Allen promised.

Isaiah stared at Allen fiercely for a long moment, but, finally, spat, "Fine." He looked at the two others. "Come on."

They started to run off, giving Havoc a conspicuously wide berth. Just before they turned the corner, Miri paused, looking back with uncertain, rose-red eyes.

"Be okay, okay, Allen?"

Then she vanished.

Allen smiled and turned to Havoc expectantly. Havoc, in turn, wasted no time in striding forward to take Allen's injured arm, pry his now-bloody hand off it, and inspect it critically.

"Didn't hit anything important," he finally decided. "We'll have to pull that bullet out at base, though."

Allen smiled nervously. Havoc chuckled and started to lead him away.

"How old are you, anyway, kid?" he continued. "Ten? Eleven?"

"Thirteen," Allen corrected, with a hint of indignation.

Havoc looked surprised. "Huh. Really? And I thought the boss was small."

Allen tilted his head at him. "The boss?"

"Ed," Havoc said, by way of explanation. A moment later, he expanded, "Uh, Edward-"

"Elric," Allen finished, recognition sparking in his eyes and relaxing noticeably. "You work with Ed?"

"Yeah," Havoc confirmed. "You know him?"

"Yeah," Allen nodded, smiling.

Twenty minutes later, they'd reached the small military base that rested unnervingly close to the Ishvalan settlement. Havoc nudged Allen in ahead of him and shut the door.

"Infirmary first," Havoc said decisively. "To take care of that shot wound."

Allen nodded quietly.

Fifteen minutes after they'd reached it, the bloody bullet rested on a table, and a doctor was wrapping a clean white bandage around Allen's upper arm, tutting unhappily about children in battlefields.

"Lieutenant Havoc?" came a voice, dark with warning and edging toward anger.

Both Havoc and Allen looked up, Havoc with a wince and Allen curiously.

"There had  _best_ be a good explanation for this," threatened the black-haired man, who wore the same uniform as the rest, but carried himself like a general.

"He was helping a couple kids escape, Chief," Havoc explained. 'Chief' raised an eyebrow, and Havoc continued hastily, defensive,  _"I_ would've left him alone, but some overzealous idiot spotted him and decided it would be a good idea to shoot him. Once he was on the record, I didn't have a lot of choice."

The black-haired man glared at him for a moment longer before he finally sighed and nodded. "Not bad, Havoc," he said eventually.

Havoc smirked, almost triumphantly.

"Havoc, Falman wants to talk to you," the man added. Then, to the doctor, "And don't you have other things to do?"

The doctor faltered for a moment, clearly torn between his duties and not leaving the child alone with the soldier, but eventually grumbled quietly and moved off. Havoc gave the man a long look before he, too, left.

The man waited for both of them to be gone before he introduced himself to Allen. "Colonel Roy Mustang. We'll have to hold you for a day, but we'll be able to let you go tomorrow, considering the circumstances."

Allen looked at him and smiled. "Thank you, Colonel."

Mustang nodded, once, examining Allen closely. Allen smiled at him awkwardly, discomfited by the scrutiny. Finally, Mustang said,

"You're not Ishvalan. How did you get involved in all this?"

Allen smiled again, more sad than awkward now, and explained, "My foster father was Ishvalan."

Apprehension reflected in Mustang's eyes, and when the Colonel asked, "Was?", Allen thought he already knew the answer.

Allen met midnight eyes with unwavering silver. "Mana was killed in the Ishvalan Massacre." His gaze dropped to the side, and a frown pulled his mouth out of shape, a furrow appearing in his brow. "The Flame Alchemist killed him."

Mustang froze, but Allen, gaze fixed on the ground, didn't see it.

"He was pushing me out of the way," Allen finished softly.

Mustang took a deep breath, braced himself, and asked, voice pensive, "If you saw the Flame Alchemist, today, right now… what would you say to him?"

For a long moment, Allen stayed silent, thinking. Finally, he shook his head.

"There's nothing to say," Allen said, voice certain, a tone of grief hidden just beneath the surface. "Nothing will make this better. Nothing will bring Mana back." He sighed, soft and rattling. "And if he doesn't regret it already… then he never will."

Mustang was silent for a long time.

"You're right," he said finally.

Then he turned and pushed his way out of the room, the door swinging shut behind him. And of course, Hawkeye was out there, waiting.

"Sir," she said quietly, a hint of concern in the tone.

"Have someone take that kid to a cell," he interrupted, not looking at her. "He'll have to stay overnight. And make sure that wound gets checked out before he leaves."

Hawkeye dipped her head, eyes regretful. "Yes, sir."

Mustang clenched his fist tight and walked away, Hawkeye staring after him worriedly.

Allen, still in the infirmary, tipped his head back and looked at the ceiling, smile sad as he thought of Mana.

Would Mana be proud of him, now?

Allen smiled.


End file.
